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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26367985">The One Percent</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HandsAcrossTheSea/pseuds/HandsAcrossTheSea'>HandsAcrossTheSea</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bottom Dean Winchester, M/M, Season/Series 08, Size Kink, Top Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:00:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,411</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26367985</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HandsAcrossTheSea/pseuds/HandsAcrossTheSea</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>All Dean is saying is that if Sam isn't going to be smug about it, then he will be for him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>212</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The One Percent</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Like we are expecting anything different from me at this point, honestly.</p>
<p>I'm just out here writing things here and there, I don't know what else to say. If you feel the need to make a rude comment down below, fucking don't. Do not ask me about "getting together" and all that other stuff, I think that by now we've figured out I don't write it. </p>
<p>That being said, there's every chance that this story will expand in the future.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>For Dean, there’s a top ten list of “sounds that mean things are going mostly right.” Number three on the list? The crack of pool balls breaking. He got to break this time, and so far, he’s two hundred dollars up. It’s laying on the table, but he’s confident that by the end of the night, he’s going to be stuffing it, and more, into his back pocket. If he can make it four, he’ll be a happy camper. So yeah, the pool is going well, he’s had two really fucking good beers, and he’s working on a third. The server, Leanna is her name, man, he loves a nice L-name keeps flashing him this big damn smile that means if he asks nicely, maybe he’ll get a chance to pull those short shorts right on down to the ground. She’s got a thigh tattoo, a rose vine, and the instinctual part of Dean wants to see how it tastes. Nice rack too, but that’s just par for the course. She’s got to be all of twenty one, but he loves a confident woman who realizes it early on. Never mind that Dean has what, twelve  years on her, but hey, she didn’t ask.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She’s the sort of pretty that even Sam noticed, and more than that, he noticed that </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dean </span>
  </em>
  <span>noticed. He had braced for an eye-roll, some snarky, jealous remark, but Sam had just smiled back at her and thanked her for the beer and nachos that she brought to him. Not a word to Dean, really, had just hummed when Dean said he was going to go and play some pool. Leanna had been back a few more times, dirty blonde hair back, her tee-shirt riding up to show a little belly. Seriously, she’s cute as can be and Dean… Dean wants her. At least he likes the idea of her. And he does </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>need Sam’s permission, either.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he also sees Sam over at the table, wearing just a single layer tonight. The vee neck of his shirt, it shows a hint of anti-possession tattoo, a few dark chest hairs showing at the bottom, and his shirt? It’s tight too. Because Sam’s been working out a lot lately, the bunker has a gym and in the two months or so they’ve lived there, he’s spent a lot of time in it. Good for Sam, and better yet for looking out for his body. Dean certainly has no complaints. Which is why he’s still waffling on Leanna, because it’s certainly not like they’re gonna go back to Lebanon and pitch a mailbox out front with her name on it. It’s just been a while since Dean slept with a woman, and it’s not because he hasn’t wanted to. It’s… well, he doesn’t know what it is.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Leanna comes back and Dean takes a beat to sip his beer, and he finally works up the nerve to speak more forthrightly - hell of a word, and it’s one of Sam’s. “What time do you get off, sweetheart?” He leans on the pool cue, and he swears that he hears Sam roll his eyes across the room.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Most of the time when you pull my hair and bite me.” Fuck, that’s a really fucking good answer. Yeah, she’s a pistol alright. “But for anyone else, one o’clock.” She tilts her head, her eyes drifting over Dean’s body. “Tall and handsome won’t have a problem with that, will he?” It takes a second to realize she means Sam - and Dean’s eyes narrow. Tall and handsome, yeah, he’s a lot more than that. But how the hell would she know? They… they’re strangers. He and Sam just </span>
  <em>
    <span>aren’t. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And for everything she has going on… she isn’t Sam. And on some days, that’s a good thing. He looks past her shoulder, just for a second to catch Sam’s eye. From his seat, Sam just shrugs with one shoulder and goes back to whatever he’s doing on his laptop, apparently content to stay there and eat nachos. Dean wants to be irked, but… if Sam isn’t gonna try and fight him, he may as well pursue.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Then again, with all the shit that’s gone on around them, because of them, a roll in the hay with a beautiful girl for an hour or two isn’t the worst thing to happen. Priorities, right? Dean looks back at her, a full foot shorter than Sam is. Her eyes are deep blue, and those lips are cherry red. “I’ll stick around, then.” He gives her another long look and she goes off to the next customer, and he really does try to find that pull that ought to be low in his body when he thinks about squeezing her tits.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That it isn’t really there, he blames on the beer in him. So much for liquid courage. Not that he needs it, but it makes </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>thinking about Sam easier. It really does. Especially since he thinks about Sam all the fucking time, and he’s already compared Leanna to him before he’s even laid hands on her. Thing is, he’s not had another lover that’s made their mark on him like Sam has. Because no one else has </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>what Sam has. His mind wanders, and soon enough, he’s thinking about Sam’s naked body next to his. How </span>
  <em>
    <span>often </span>
  </em>
  <span>he sees it, feels it, holds it against his own. How Sam </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows </span>
  </em>
  <span>him and touches him. The guy he’s playing against asks </span>
  <em>
    <span>what’s the big idea </span>
  </em>
  <span>and Dean comes out of his reverie - and now, </span>
  <em>
    <span>now </span>
  </em>
  <span>he’s turned on. And nowhere in that thought did Leanna figure.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, I’m going.” Dean lines up his shot, sinks his balls, and tries hard to focus. Sam walks by fifteen minutes later, touching Dean on the back and telling him </span>
  <em>
    <span>gotta piss, watch my stuff. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The knee-jerk reaction is that he would much, much rather watch Sam do his business than his empty nacho bowl, but Dean keeps an eye on it from across the room anyway. Right now, Sam is pulling his heavy, soft dick out of his underwear and probably standing at the urinal, sighing with relief. Dean has listened to him do it enough times now that he knows its reflex, and down to their bodies being reconstructed so many times now, he’ll roll back his foreskin and shake it out, too. So fucking thorough, all the damn time. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>beyond </span>
  </em>
  <span>thorough with Dean as well, and when Leanna comes back, he decides to be honest with her. He knows what he wants, and for a moment, he has to mull over the through of if something is wrong with him, not wanting to bang a chick like her. There isn’t because he’s big enough to admit that he just, quite simply, doesn’t want her bad enough. It isn’t like Sam wouldn’t be in his head if he </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>get her naked, either. “Hey, Leanna, just uh… go ahead and tab me out. Just remembered that I got somewhere to be in the morning, and… maybe next time I’m in town?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Leanna gives him a cool look, and then one of something approaching understanding. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere, so I’ll keep an eye out.” She smiles, and then looks in Sam’s direction as he comes back by. “His on yours too?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Always, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dean thinks. “Yeah, go ahead. He’s earned a dinner on me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sam chuckles as he walks by, but doesn’t stop to offer anything else. Dean's eyes follow his back automatically, and he almost feels sorry for Leanna - she doesn't stand a chance. It isn't her fault, truly. Sam's just in a league of his own and Dean went pro with him years and years ago. Half a lifetime, really, and Dean knows where that bone deep sort of satisfaction comes from - and it isn't a cute waitress. He finishes his pool game, collects his winnings with a triumphant smirk, and sends the guy a beer as consolation. The booth that Sam is in is his only goal right now.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>              He takes the seat across from Sam, looking forlornly at the nacho bowl; it's like Sam licked the sides clean. He's hungry, but he wants to talk to Sam. Or maybe Sam wants to talk to him. For a second, neither of them say much. Sam keeps looking around on his laptop, and Dean nudges his foot under the table. "Supposed to be relaxing Sam, not geeking out for more." He leans in and sips more beer, close enough he can smell Sam's cologne over the rest of the bar. It's so subtle and yet enticing, the sort that makes Dean want to bury his nose in his neck. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>             Hell, he'd be doing that if Sam </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn't </span>
  </em>
  <span>have it on. His own musk suits him just fine as well. "I'm not, Dean." He starts to close the lid, but Dean has seen that sneakily guilty look on his face enough to know that Sam was up to </span>
  <em>
    <span>something. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dean moves fast and takes the laptop from him - and saves his beer from spilling. Sam tries to grab it back, but Dean already has it out of reach.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>            "Too slow, Sammy." Dean flashes him a grin and looks at the screen - it ain't porn he's looking at, for sure. It's a bunch of numbers and a chart on…. dick size. With very precise information entered into a couple places next to it. Dean's eyes get wide, and when he looks back at Sam, shit, Sam is doing his best to disappear into the worn, faux leather booth.  "Something you wanna share, sweetheart?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>          Sam's expression turns gently ferocious, and when he puts a hand out for his laptop, Dean gives it back this time. "I just….I was curious." His cheeks turn even redder and Dean listens intently, the laptop closed and set aside. "You're always going on and on about how...impressive, I am. So I looked to see how uh, I measured up. Against… everyone else." He licks his lips, and Dean wants to chase the motion with his own tongue. He's sexy when he's flustered, and Dean is spoiling to get him to turned on. "I'm in the top one percent, and after that I stopped reading. Just in case you were gonna ask."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>           Dean could kiss the sky if he was allowed to, seriously. Sam's precious, in his way, like he's embarrassed to be a part of the statistic. For his part, Dean is </span>
  <em>
    <span>ecstatic. </span>
  </em>
  <span>To the point where when Sam fucks him, it's gonna be even hotter, knowing he's handling all that. For all the work it takes to well, take Sam, it's always been so fucking worth it. "Oh, that was my next question alright." Dean just smiles wider, and Sam looks away. "Goddamn, baby boy, you have a big fucking cock, you know that?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>             "According to the chart, </span>
  <em>
    <span>freakishly </span>
  </em>
  <span>big." Dean wouldn't call the nine plus he's packing </span>
  <em>
    <span>freakish, </span>
  </em>
  <span> just….ample. Able to do lots of stuff with. Filling. "Stop that." Sam withdraws on himself, and Dean swears that he sees him cover his crotch with his hand - even though he can't really see much from the chest down. "Dean, c'mon, not here."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>              Across the bar, he sees Leanna working her magic on someone else and yeah, she's not it for him, not tonight. He turns back to Sam, taking the toe of his boot and rubbing it up the inside of his calf. "Think of it like this, Sam - I turned her down because I thought about uh, you. But now that I know just how special you are…" He gives him a lascivious, hungering look, his want on full blast. "What do you say Sam, you wanna go screw our brains out?" He's not going to try and hide how much he craves Sam's touch, his massive cock digging his fucking hole out. Sam's stroke game strong enough that anything he did with Leanna, fuck, he wouldn't be even </span>
  <em>
    <span>thinking </span>
  </em>
  <span>about it come morning, much less feeling it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>              Sam looks down, but Dean can see the dimples pitting his cheeks. Yeah, he's on board alright, and Dean has a pretty good idea of just how hard Sam is going to run his ass in. "It isn't like it's something I can help, Dean, just how things turned out." He holds Dean's gaze, finally showing his desire. "You good to drive?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>              Dean thinks about it for a moment, and decides no, Sam's up for it tonight. "Little buzzed, so better not." He's going to be taking control as soon as they're home anyway, so they may as well start setting it up now. Besides, Dean's got a plan and it involves his concentration </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>being on the road. Just on Sam. They stand up, and Dean watches Sam try to subtly adjust himself - but those jeans are a little too tight on him for much of anything to be discrete. Dean will be selfish and admit that he likes it that way - he almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants </span>
  </em>
  <span>people to see what he gets to handle on the regular. He also might be a little crazy about getting his hands on Sam as soon as possible - but that's Dean's problem to find a solution for.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>               He tosses Sam the keys and walks out of the bar with his hand on his ass. Just in case anyone was wondering exactly </span>
  <em>
    <span>whom </span>
  </em>
  <span>he’s going home with tonight. They’re a couple towns away from Lebanon, since it doesn’t offer much in the way of watering holes. Leanna’s comment about not going anywhere, well, neither is Dean. But so far as the residents of Smith County are concerned, the bunker isn’t even there. Dean really likes the idea of a secret lair for just himself and Sam, a hell of a lot. Privacy is key, and Dean enjoys having it. Maybe more than he thought he ever would.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Seeing Sam behind the wheel of the Impala gets his heart rate going all over again, and Sam’s forearm, high on the wheel, is veiny, strong, masculine in ways that Dean finds simply mindblowing. He downplays, so much, how handsome he is, how much he has going for him - which is </span>
  <em>
    <span>a lot. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Right as he’s starting the Impala, Dean leans in and turns Sam’s head towards his for a kiss, one that lingers and tastes like beer they don’t normally drink and the promise of a night to remember.  Sam brings his hands up to Dean’s face, cupping it, licking his way past Dean’s lips, confident in that movement. Dean falls into it, lets Sam in to fill his mouth with his tongue. There’s just no one else who can do it like this, can kiss Dean and instantly know all the important stuff. Sam does, Sam </span>
  <em>
    <span>always </span>
  </em>
  <span>does.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dean puts a hand at the base of Sam’s neck and feels the warm skin revealed by the vee, fingers slipping under the edge, moving along his collarbone, palpating the flesh over his heart. Sam’s beat is racing too, tuning for come what may. “Take me home, Sam, I fucking want your naked body against mine.” Honesty, that’s what it’s all about - and feeling the press of his big fucking dick against his own, seeking to fuck Dean and give him that bone-drenching pleasure that he’s so good at making Dean feel. Sam hums, pulls away, and Dean doesn’t really see all that much of a reason to put a great deal of space between them. They’ll be home in half an hour, and Sam knows the way.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Once they’re on the road back to Lebanon, Dean doesn’t wait to explore Sam’s body any longer. He presses his lips to his neck, his hand raising the  hem of his shirt and feeling his belly, the hair leading down from his navel to his belt. Sam spreads his legs as wide as they’ll go, already knowing where Dean is heading next. “What’s with all the horny this evening?” He tries to play it straight - but Dean has every intention of unraveling him, even if it takes a while. Sam can pretend there’s not a feral, toppy beast in there, but Dean knows way fucking better than that. Sam does too, he just takes some </span>
  <em>
    <span>encouragement.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I like your cock, Sam.” He unloops his belt, taken with just how </span>
  <em>
    <span>warm </span>
  </em>
  <span>his skin is here. “Fuck it, Sam, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>love </span>
  </em>
  <span>your cock.” He manages to rub him through his underwear, this special brand called Saxx, which is apparently fucking made for guys with large cocks. So, specifically for Sam it would seem. Dean can’t fucking get over it, that Sam has started wearing </span>
  <em>
    <span>big dick underwear. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It’s soft to the touch, and Sam is fucking hard, trapped up to the left, like he’s ready to be let out. Sam’s changes his grip on the wheel over to his left hand, that way he can give Dean more room to work - and he’s grateful for that move, truly. “Just wanna touch you, baby boy, that’s all. I can wait for the rest.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Take me out, pretty boy.” Sam shoots him this give ‘em hell look, backlit by the headlamps of traffic going in the other direction. Dean’s careful to avoid the teeth on his zipper, but he’s got Sam out in no time at all, erect, leaking, throbbing with want. God fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>damn </span>
  </em>
  <span>he’s big, porn star big, and Dean’s watched enough of it to know that Sam edges out more than a few of them as well. It’s not an obsession, or a compulsion - Dean just likes what his brother is packing. He leans back, right next to Sam, holding him so that neither of them can forget the other is there. With his right hand he cups himself through his jeans, his own cock hard as steel too. It isn’t so much about him, even if Sam is going to absolutely give back all the pleasure Dean will be seeking for himself - even if there are times when Dean wishes he would just be fucking selfish and </span>
  <em>
    <span>use </span>
  </em>
  <span>him. Sam deserves it, but refuses to take, to lose some of that control he’s worked so hard to cultivate.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The days that Sam lives too much in his own head? Those are the ones that Dean wants to give himself over to Sam the most. Things have been stable lately, but peace is so often fleeting. Dean grips his cock a little more firmly, his thumb making slow circles in the precome seeping from his slit. He gets wet so easily these days, even easier than Dean. Sam takes a hold of his wrist, motioning for Dean to jerk him -</span>
  <em>
    <span> slowly. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“You’re the only one who’s ever handled me just right, you know that?” Sam says it low, lusty, and Dean lets those words roll around in his mind for a moment. “The way you touch me, fuck me - no one’s better, Dean. No one.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why do you think I try to make it good for you every time, Sam?” Dean brings his thumb to his lips and savors the taste of Sam’s body, his yearning for </span>
  <em>
    <span>more </span>
  </em>
  <span>quickly winning out over any sense he might have left. Sam knows that his hold is weakening, and piles on enough speed that they’ll shave a few minutes off getting home. Dean’s fine with that - he’s got Sam to talk them out of a ticket, and barring that, he can always flash his tits and see how far it gets them. Dean isn’t worried, really. There’s plenty of Kansas that counts as “the middle of nowhere” and Lebanon doesn’t get much </span>
  <em>
    <span>more </span>
  </em>
  <span>nowhere. “You deserve to feel good, Sam, and I like being the one to do it for you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sam hums his agreement, dropping his right hand to get a taste of himself, pulling the strong long away from the slit of his cock before he finally brings it to his lips. He sucks the end of his thumb clean, and if Dean wasn’t turned the fuck on before, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely </span>
  </em>
  <span>is now. “You mind if we skip right to the good part when we get in, Dean?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dean smirks, and slouches down in the seat just long enough to lick a fresh drop of precome from him. “Was counting on it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It did seem just a </span>
  <em>
    <span>little </span>
  </em>
  <span>pushy to demand it, after all. Not that it’s a problem, it’s just polite to ask first. Of course, Sam’s already read his mind. Once, Dean would have thought it creepy but now?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>If it gets Sam inside him sooner, he is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>going to complain one bit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sam is given the grand total of four seconds to get out of the car once they’ve parked in the garage before Dean is on him again. Seriously, something about him behind the wheel, it just fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>does </span>
  </em>
  <span>it for him. It doesn’t mean that Sam gets to drive everywhere, of course, not unless… well, Dean </span>
  <em>
    <span>has </span>
  </em>
  <span>been dead before. Regardless, it’s not going to be a regular thing. For now, Dean is perfectly fine with letting it turn him on even more. Sam doesn’t bother to put himself away, really. He tucks his hard cock up against his belly and buttons his jeans, his shirt tented at the bottom, the perfect starting point for getting Sam inside him. Dean pins him against the side of the car, mouth to mouth and body to body. Dean pours all of his hunger into that kiss, and Sam returns it with full-throated intensity.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Whatever goes down, he’s completely on board too.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a grind, intense, hard, friction-heavy as they pull against each other, one of Sam’s thighs kicked between Dean’s legs. Dean whines, he’ll admit it, since there’s not nearly enough naked skin between the two of them just yet. But he’s really, really fucking into kissing Sam like this, and for the moment, Sam seems content to stay right here and suck on his tongue. Hell, Dean likes it too. It’s just difficult to get around his end goal - which is very much not a dry hump against the Impala’s rear right fender.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Upstairs,” Sam growls, and it’s enough to make Dean shiver, spine-tinglingly so. Dean rubs at his cock through his shirt and leads hooks his fingers in Sam’s waistband to start them in the right direction. “Think I want you on your back first.” His tone doesn’t leave much room for suggestion - that’s just how it’s going to be. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“First, huh?” Sam’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>horny, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and Dean knows it means that they don’t get to stop without going at </span>
  <em>
    <span>least </span>
  </em>
  <span>a couple rounds. “That mean I get options later?” Fuck, he’s gonna be sore as hell in the morning, isn’t he? He can live with that, so long as Sam finds some way to kiss it better. Or just give him his cock again. Sam stops them and reels Dean in for another kiss, and this time, it’s Dean against the wall, his hands pinned against it - and it makes Sam seem </span>
  <em>
    <span>huge, </span>
  </em>
  <span>when he lords it over Dean like this. Those knock-em-dead shoulders, the three inches of height, the coiled strength in his biceps, </span>
  <em>
    <span>shit - </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dean fucking loves it. Sam bites his lower lip, sucking on it nice and slow before he releases with a drag of teeth. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It means that you’ll take my cock in whatever positions I want to put you in, pretty boy.” Sam gives him this almost demonic smile - and Dean nearly wets himself with excitement. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>the unhinged side of his lust that Dean was looking for. He doesn’t need to live in it - just long enough for him to rail the hell out of Dean and leave them both sated to the core. “Unless you have a different idea of what I should do with you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dean shakes his head, swallowing against his lust. “I can… fuck, I can live with that, Sam.” There’s truly not much that Sam can do that Dean isn’t going to be one hundred percent on board with, so long as it ends with Sam inside him. Sam pulls him from the wall and off they go, heading for the room and bed that they share. When they first moved in, they really had tried to sleep separately. The attempt had lasted two nights, and they hadn’t looked back since. Especially since they picked out a damned comfortable bed and so far, it’s been resilient as hell when they go at each other. That’s the road test, will it hold when Sam is pounding his ass and still be soft enough to pass out on after.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>So far, it hasn’t disappointed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sam pulls him off the wall and practically kicks the door to their room in, and for a moment anyway, Dean expects to be hauled over his shoulder and thrown on the bed, caveman style. He isn’t, but he is spun and put on his back, Sam coming down on top of him in a wave of hands and arms, their bodies colliding with a weighty thump - Sam’s a big boy, and Dean is all to aware of it when he’s on top of him like this. He raids Dean’s mouth and sucks his tongue, letting Dean keep his hands free to get between them and rub his cock. He’s leaking precome all over them, their shirts rucked up and bellies exposed. Dean manages to get his fingers around him, stroking his dick as well he can. Sam ruts into the hold of his fingers, and soon enough, they’ve managed to shed their clothes pieces by piece, until Sam is frotting off against Dean’s cock and they’re both so keyed up with need that Dean is seriously considering just letting him in with no prep at all.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hold still,” Sam growls. Dean </span>
  <em>
    <span>mostly </span>
  </em>
  <span>complies, continuing to stroke Sam off as he reaches for the lube. He grumbles when Sam backs out of his grip and sits on his haunches, pushing Dean’s legs apart further. “Hey, if you want to take me like this, we can try - but like hell if we’re running to the ER for a torn rectum.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dean groans, tempted to close his legs. “I swear to God if you ever say ‘torn rectum’ again when you’re about to fuck me, you’re on your own for a month.” That threat holds about as much promise as those “grow your dick” pills but… imagery, dude. Even with Sam having an excellent point, he’s… he’s needy. Sam laughs, rubbing lube over his hole, then smears the rest on himself. He catches Dean’s eye, his expression open, loving, like fingering Dean’s ass for his cock is this deeply romantic experience for both of them. “What?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothin’,” Sam says. He leans forward and kisses Dean, holding it as he starts to work Dean open. Dean bites back a gasp as the first finger slips inside him, thorough, quick, </span>
  <em>
    <span>teasing. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Sam’s fingers are big enough that one feels like two for anyone else, so far as Dean’s ass is concerned. He makes himself relax, wanting to make this as fast as possible for the both of them. He’s getting a little crazy for it, for Sam to finally fill him up. He wonders when he started craving it like this, when it became </span>
  <em>
    <span>vital - </span>
  </em>
  <span>certainly before tonight. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But knowing where Sam stands only sweetens the appeal of getting deep-dicked by him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Two, three fingers end up in him, Sam doing his best to just open him up and not edge him - he’ll do that with his cock, until he’s ready for Dean to come. Being as big as he is and how his girth presses on </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything, </span>
  </em>
  <span>it’s a fucking struggle to not blow early, purely because of body mechanics. Just means that Dean has to bring his a-game. Sam keeps licking his mouth out like he’s got his tongue in Dean’s hole instead, and maybe that can come later - it just isn’t what he wants right now. “Think you’re ready, don’t you?” Sam pulls his fingers out and reaches for the lube again, adding more, just in case Dean wasn’t fucking wet enough. He can feel it all over the inside of his thighs and on his nuts, hanging low with fullness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s all up to Sam to drain them, and he will. “If you don’t get in me I’m gonna hold you down and do it myself, baby boy.” Sam growls, because no the fuck he won’t. He lines up, giving Dean about three seconds before he starts to push in, and God, God </span>
  <em>
    <span>God </span>
  </em>
  <span>he’s thick, just the head of him, and the rest that follows feels like he’s being split open by a log. Sam stops, adds more lube, and buries himself to the hilt, shutting Dean up with a long, hard kiss, stealing the breath from each other’s lungs. Sam hums, reciprocates the whine that Dean let out, holding himself still for a long enough time that for a second, Dean thinks he’s gonna blow prematurely.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wouldn’t be the first time, for either of them. Some days the trigger is a little more sensitive than others - but Sam is inside him, </span>
  <em>
    <span>deep </span>
  </em>
  <span>inside him, and it’s fucking wonderful. He breaks their kiss, feeling his heart pounding in his throat. “You good?” He has to know, has to make sure that this is what Sam wants.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Perfect,” Sam says, lust-punched voice turning Dean’s insides to slush. He moves his hips, rolling them in this dead slow motion that has Dean’s voice going up half an octave when he moans. Pleased with himself, Sam does it again, Dean’s grip digs into his biceps and it’s all picking up speed from there, the sweat breaking out over Dean’s body in this neck to waist sort of way. Sam’s arms bulge with muscle and veins where he supports himself, hands planted just above Dean’s shoulders, eyes holding each other’s, watching the pleasure bathe both of them in ever increasingly large waves. Sam’s mouth falls open in a pant, that pretty pink mouth enough to make Dean want to commit a million sins for it alone. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You feel so goddamn good inside me, Sam.” Dean keeps moaning, gasping, each fuck of Sam’s cock back into him making stars burst behind his vision. “Fucking love it when you fucking fill me up with your big fucking dick, shit, Sammy, just - fucking pound me.” It’s fucking magic, how getting fucked loosens up his tongue. Sam bears down on him, shoves a pillow under his ass and goes right back to it, picking up speed enough that Dean can feel his own chest jiggle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s how he knows when things are getting really good, and he wraps his legs around Sam’s waist, meeting him thrust for thrust. Sam doesn’t fucking quit, keeping it even, hard, these long, deep strokes of his hips a gift from God himself. He fucks and fucks Dean until they’re both on edge, thirty seconds from blowing - and then he rolls them, putting Dean on top. His hands go to his hips and hold him up, letting Sam drive his cock into him, fucking in, up, right on his prostate. Dean reaches behind himself and holds tight onto his calves, Sam growling, Dean’s cock slapping against his belly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s this incredible overload of sensation that Dean is experiencing, driven on and on by the sheer force of Sam fucking him open. “Want you to come like this, all fucking over me.” Sam doesn’t let up, growling, swearing, </span>
  <em>
    <span>got the tightest fucking hole, pretty boy, better than any girl, swear you are - </span>
  </em>
  <span>and Dean’s finished, coming hands free all over Sam’s body in a wild rush, painting his tits and stomach white, knocked further off balance when Sam flips them again and cradles Dean’s knees over his elbows, come and sweat dripping from his chest hair. He fucks him until his hips stutter, slammed nuts deep as he breeds Dean full, pulse after pulse. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In spite of the near brutality of it, Dean fucking grins and pulls Sam to him, kissing his mouth without hurry and feeling supremely pleased with himself; </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>made Sam lose it like that. “Better?” Dean is, for damn sure.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sam grunts what sounds like a yes, and until they’re ready to go again, Dean has no intention of letting him wander any further than where he is right now.</span>
</p>
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